


The Slow Grind

by Killer_Rabbit_of_Caerbannog



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 21:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killer_Rabbit_of_Caerbannog/pseuds/Killer_Rabbit_of_Caerbannog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is lucky he's not late for his shifts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Slow Grind

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I torment Jensenshackled over skype as she watches TOS.

Bones and Jim already know their way around each other, so it’s Jim's job to guide Spock, strip off his shirt and pull him down to the bed.

All the while, Bones will be snarking at him, sneering at Spock's ineptitude and awkwardness. And of course, Spock will be doing his passive-aggressive snarking back.

Jim will be in-between them, sighing with fond exasperation.

He'll pull Spock in for a kiss to get him to shut the hell up, leaning back against Bones, who does his huffy thing – what Jim thinks of as his little "urgh I can’t believe I have to deal with you idiots but I secretly love you" huff – as Bones curls his hands around Jim’s ribs.

And then Bones leans in and fits his mouth against that sweaty hollow of Jim's throat, the way that never fails to make his breath hitch.

He'll have to pull away from Spock's mouth, and Spock will look up and _see_ the way Jim begins to pant and Bones mouths at that sensitive point just under Jim's jaw.

Spock will freeze, unsure, but Bones will look up and catch Spock's eye. And though they are always quick to make a dig at one another, they are never above helping each other.

So Bones reaches out, and takes one of Spock’s hands, rearranging the digits, until he can stroke two fingers against them, the way he has learnt from his studies.

There will be a grin, a slow curl of Bones' lips in wonder as Spock's eyelashes flutter at his touch

“What are you doing?" slurs Jim, watching them curiously.

"Kissing" Bones says simply, running his teeth over the soft curve of Jim's shoulder. "The Vulcan way."

Jim watches as Bones starts stroking again, moving his fingers slower, and then lower, from Spock's fingers, over the pale knuckles and across his hand.

Spock breathes slowly, deeply, black eyes fixed on the two of them, Jim and Bones, who are both smirking at him, faces flushed with hunger as a green tinge creeps over Spock’s pale skin.

"Soooo, Vulcan kissing," drawls Jim. "Does that work elsewhere, or is it just the hands?"

Spock quirks an eyebrow. "I do not understand what you mean by tha-"

He cuts off with a sharp gasp as Bones, grinning, strokes his two fingers down Spock's chest, following that dark dusting of hair that spreads at his naval, before flaring down beneath his black pants.

"Oooh, it looks like Vulcan kissing _isn’t_ too different from human kissing then," Jim says with a wicked grin, arranging his own fingers to mirror Bones'.

Jim reaches for Spock, tracing the line where pants meet flesh, brushes those fingers over the bulge there and smiles up at him, all innocence (an effort ruined by the way Jim groans as Bones' rakes fingernails over his nipple).

Spock’s mouth parts at the sight, and Jim groans again, because he can, and the way Spock looks at him, looks at them _both_ – the way something heady ignites in his eyes as Bones drags Jim’s face around for a kiss, tongue dipping into the slack heat of his mouth, their lips not quite connected, because he wants their audience to _see_.

Bones pulls back, just enough to let his tongue flick out against Jim’s lips, his teeth, and Jim feels it as Spock lurches forward, hands grasping at Jim’s hips, pushing him back, slotting them together more fully, and it’s not enough.

And Jim’s only in his thin cotton briefs and the layers between them make it headier somehow, the sweet promise the presses into the small of his back, the hard curve of delicious heat that slides against his thighs.

“More,” he pants, and it’s no different here than on the bridge as Spock obeys the order, curving forward to catch Bones’ lip with his teeth, and there is nothing soft in the kiss between them, all sharp nips and sloppy mouths that make Jim squirm.

And Jim can appreciate a good show as well as the next person, hand creeping down over his belly, but a hand stops him, and Spock pulls back enough to hiss, “Do not attempt to touch yourself, Jim. Such tasks are not for you.”

Jim whines in frustration, but Bones, blessed lovely Bones, has mercy on him and rolls his hips, only gentle but it’s enough that he can _feel_ it, the not-quite-there drag against the crease of his arse.

Spock’s hands dip between them, and Jim can feel those hot knuckles brushing against his spine, as Spock strokes the sweaty flesh of Bones’ stomach, catches on the hair of his chest, draws his nails up the curve of his back.

And Bones swears roughly, buries his nose in the sweat dark hair at Jim’s nape, and rocks up hard, and it’s still not enough, makes Jim hiss and scrabble against the corded muscle of Spock’s thighs.

“Please, _please_ ,” Jim chants, and Spock moves forward, knees sliding under Jim, bumping against the crook of Bones’ legs until they are pressed together, Spock’s hips grinding down against Jim, perfect and rough and hard enough that Bones’ can feel it beneath him.

The chime of Spock’s padd warns them of their encroaching shift, and the grinding slows, and deep, unhurried thrusting that makes Jim curse and Bones chuckle.

And damn it, but Jim knows they know that he can’t appear for duty flushed and smelling of sex, and it’s desperation that makes him pull out his trump card – letting his eyes open wide and his finger slip into the damp hair of both of them, and he moans, “Need you, I _need_ you – can’t be with- without you.”

And there, that sharp hitch in Spock’s breath, the shutter of Bones’ hips and then it’s heated and hard and just right, just _there_ and they come, full body shudders that one of them begins that pulls the others over the edge, pulses between them until they slump, a messy pile on the bed, harsh panting the only sound until the padd chimes once more and Jim has to extract himself with a laugh.


End file.
